He knocked on the door of his aunt's bedroom.
"Is that you, Richard ?" "Yes.

May I come in ?" "Certainly." He entered quietly.

The moonlight, pouring in through the window, lay blue-white on the counterpane and the beloved old face.
"What is it ?" she asked.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted her hands.
"Aunty, old lady, I'm through thinking.

I'm going to come home just as soon as I can fix up things in New York." "Richard, my boy!" Her arms pulled him downward.

"I knew it when you came in.